The Moment I Knew
by AGriffinWriter
Summary: A man, a woman, a vampire, and a former vengeance demon... and a wedding where every possible thing seems to go wrong. Will the terrifying visions of a possible future scare Xander away from Anya? Can Buffy find it in herself to forgive? Can Spike persuade the groom to return, or will both of them lose the ones they love? Re-write of "Hells Bells".
1. Chapter 1: Used Up

_A/N: Dear Joss and Buffy writing team, we love you and kowtow to your awesomeness... but sometimes you just break our hearts and those of our beloved characters, so we rebel!_

_Here is a pseudo-canon re-write of "Hells Bells", which you lovely readers have been asking me for ever since I put it in my poll. Kudos to __**Forever-Furuba**__ for corroborating that my preliminary ideas were worth turning into a story! Hope this meets (or even surpasses) all your expectations. Story title comes from Taylor Swift's song 'The Moment I Knew', which reminds me somewhat of the wedding's canon events. Lyrics (in some cases altered) will proceed some chapters._

_Please review! I'll try to update once a week._

* * *

**Ch 1: Used Up**

_- - I've got my eye on the door / Just waiting for you to walk in - -_

_Impressive_, Spike thinks absently as he strolls through the heavy rain to the entrance of the Sunnydale Bison's Lodge, his steps slightly hampered by the high-heeled hussy he's got under one arm. _S'pose I'm not the only sun-sensitive demon on the guest list. Wonder which witch brought on the cloudburst... no, probably neither, seein' as Red's on sabbatical with the mojo and Glinda probably hasn't got the power for somethin' this intense. No, more likely one of Demon Bride's kith or kin worked it out_.

He's rambling. Even inside his head, it sounds stupid. But he mustn't think of _her_, or he'll spiral back down to that dark, empty place inside his heart... the inward embodiment of what his crypt now looks like, after she and Soldier Boy blew it to blackened smithereens.

All along, he'd thought that letting her use him... making her feel... was good for her, was helping her survive in this horrible Hell that her supposed true friends had dragged her back to. But he'd been wrong, so wrong that every time he thinks of her words it feels like a stake is being twisted through his core.

_"I'm using you. I can't love you. I'm just... being weak and selfish..."_

_"Really not complainin' here..."_

_"... And it's killing me. I have to be strong about this. I'm sorry... William."_

She'd even used his Christian name, treated him like a person, a rare enough phenomenon itself... but it was rejection all the same. He'd lain on the floor of his destroyed lower level for two days, curled into a fetal position, too shocked to even cry. It had taken all his inner strength to pull himself together and show up for this hoopla. Of course, to save face, he'd made a pit-stop at the seedy Fish Tank bar by the docks and found the sleaziest tart who'd made doe-eyes at him. All it had taken was a few kisses with his wicked, clever tongue and the promise of a good hard shag later tonight – which he really hoped he didn't have to uphold – to convince the skank to be his 'date' to the wedding.

Spike half-considers abandoning the Goth girl in the parking lot, his mouth going dry as they take the last few steps up to the door. _Is this really what I want, for Buffy to see how low I've stooped to try to put her past me? Like anythin' in Heaven, Hell, or the Hellmouth could make me want her any less..._

_At least this bint and I don't stand out,_ is his only consoling thought as they cross the threshold; plenty of the wedding guests are considerably more freaky than a pale man in a leather coat with a pierced-and-tatted bimbo beside him. He glances around, hoping to slip into to some seats near the back, preferable behind some very tall demons, stay as invisible as possible...

"Spike!"

_Oh bugger_._ Spotted already_.

Dawn approaches from the table of wedding gifts, wearing a dress that's color can be somewhat accurately described as 'little-green-men green'. Turning to face her – and wheeling around the Goth girl as he does so – Spike wrests his face into a look of casual indifference.

"Oh. Uh. Want you to meet my date."

Dawn offers her hand to 'the date', smiling politely, the spitting image of her ever-gracious mother.

"Hi, I'm Dawn."

"Uh-huh," is the only response from the hussy, her hand like a defrosted fish filet as she shakes Dawn's. Spike internally bristles at her impoliteness to the girl he considers a younger sister, but tries to keep up his cool.

"So, yeah. Anyway, that's my date. She's with me. My date for the wedding." _Hell, please just open up your gob and swallow me. If I feel this stupid just from five seconds with her sister_...

Dawn squints at him, confused by the emphasis he's putting on 'my date'. "Yeah, okay. Well, nice meeting you."

"Oh, hold on..." Spike digs in a pocket and unearths a twenty, which he presses toward Dawn. "Here... for the couple. Didn't know what to get 'em, so I figured... Know it's impersonal or whatever, but figured somethin' was better th'n nothin'."

"It's okay, Spike," smiles Dawn, still perplexed by how awkward and nervous he's acting. "A bunch of people give money and gift cards at weddings, at least I think they do. I don't remember if we went to weddings in LA."

"Ta, Niblet," he says, trying to smile back but only managing a strained grimace. "Well, uh... don't want to keep you. Sure you've got bridesmaiding to do."

"Yep. Anya is a total Bride-zilla," she grins, folding the twenty dollar bill in one hand. "I guess I'll... see you later?"

"Yeah. Reckon so."

"I'm glad you came, Spike," says Dawn genuinely, though her eyes narrow as they flicker to the Goth girl now tugging lightly at the collar of Spike's black dress shirt, as though to expose more of his ivory chest.

He chuckles hollowly. "Pro'ly the only one who is. Toddle off now, Niblet. Maybe I can catch one dance at the reception, eh?"

"Counting on it! Bye, Spike."

As Dawn wanders off through the mixed crowd of humans and demons, the skanky girl stares after her with a simpering frown. "You didn't date _her_ did you?"

"No!" Spike retorts indignantly. _Just her sister_...

"Oh, good," the hussy giggles, tugging on Spike's ear lobe until he reluctant turns his head and plunders her expectant mouth...

* * *

"Now, let's go over the checklist one more time," Xander says stalwartly as he and Buffy emerge from the groom's quarters. "Number one..."

"... Don't let your dad near the bar," answers Buffy, closing the door behind them.

"Check. Number two..."

"...Don't let your _mom_ near the bar."

"Hey Buffy!" calls Dawn, hurrying down the corridor toward them. "Spike's here, and he brought a total skank."

"A wh–"

"Skank!" Dawn repeats emphatically. "A manic-panicked who he's like totally macking with right in the middle of the room." She tugs on Buffy's arm, forcing her and Xander to stop their progress. "I saw him shove his _tongue_ –"

"Spike brought a _date_?" Buffy interrupts.

"Yeah," Dawn snickers, rolling her eyes. "Wait 'till you see her."

Buffy swallows, keeping her face as apathetic as she can manage. She hadn't expected him to come, hadn't heard... _well duh, genius, you've been avoiding him. Kinda hard to expect an RSVP._... But now to hear that, after only two days since she'd walked out on him and ended their excuse-of-a-relationship, he's already shacking up with... another woman. He's moved on. _So why haven't I?_

"Guys," Xander reminds them, "I'd better go meet and greet."

"Uh, just go ahead," nods Buffy. "I'll... I'll be a second."

Dawn gives Xander a friendly punch on the arm as he walks past them, then slips her hand into her sister's and squeezes it.

"You okay?"

"Fine," she lies. "Let's... go check on the bride."

* * *

_To be continued. Please review!_


	2. Chapter 2: Lesson in Contrasts

_A/N: Thank you loverswalk89, Bridget, Fallen Priestess, and Jeremy Shane for your reviews! This chapter is about half-and-half Xander focused and Spike/Buffy focused. Oh, and I named the tentacle demon 'Mel' because the actor who played him is named Mel Fair. Random trivia!_

* * *

**Chapter 2: Lesson in Contrasts**

_- - And it was like slow motion - - _

"Toast!" shouts Xander's father, clanging a fork against his glass.

Xander blanches, already overwhelmed by the Greek chorus of people and problems badgering him from every side. His parents were told to sit the third row instead of the first... Dawn is griping because Halfrek gets to be a bridesmaid, and something about a squiggly present... and now this bizarre old man claims marrying Anya today will be the biggest mistake of his life. Surely this is a nightmare. Surely he's about to wake up in his pjs, still squished in his apartment playing host to his immediate family and a slew of out-of-town demons.

"A toast!" Tony Harris repeats belligerently.

"I swear I told that guy no drinks before the ceremony," Xander moans. He should have known the rented teenage bartender wouldn't have lasted long against the intimidating father of the groom.

"Toast! To the Harris clan," drawls Mr. Harris. "I know in the past we've had our problems, but by golly, we're a damn sight prettier than half the folks in here. And... to my wife, Jessica. Where are you, honey?"

Mrs. Harris blushes, shoulders slumping in embarrassment as more and more of the guests in the lounge area fall silent and stare from her to the drunken dirtbag at the bar. Even Spike pulls his face away from the Goth girl's sloppy kisses and glances pityingly at the middle-aged woman, the Victorian gentleman inside him bristling at her husband's insolence. No one notices an old man in a tan trench coat leading Xander into a side room.

"There she is," grins Mr. Harris, the last person in the room to spot his wife. He raises his glass. "To my wife. What would I do without you, beautiful?"

Caught off-guard, Jessica Harris smiles at his tone of sincerity.

"Well... for starters I probably wouldn't need to drink so much, would I?" he sneers mercilessly, wiping the smile from her face like he's slashed her with a knife.

Xander's mom blinks, a little choked up but still holding her head high, his jibes nothing new after twenty-five years, just amplified by the supposedly happy occasion and the audience to her humiliation. Some of the silent guests look all around, trying and failing to offer her privacy, but Spike glares straight at Tony Harris, wishing for perhaps the ten thousandth time in the last three years that he wasn't shackled by the chip.

"On the brighter side," Mr. Harris continues glibly, "marriage has probably saved me from a nasty dose of the clap!" He chuckles, holding up his refilled shot glass. "Here's to ya!"

"Does this jerk ever shut up?" mutters floppy-eared Clem, standing with Mel, the Tentacle Demon, a few feet in front of Spike.

"He's starting to make my suckers twitch," agrees Mel, holding up his hands as evidence.

"And a toast," Tony Harris continues, scowling, "to the bride's dermatologically challenged family shrub!"

"Sit down!" shouts Mel, losing patience. His command earns a rumble of approval from the other demons, all annoyed with both the direct and implied disgust Mr. Harris has levied at them during their stay in Xander's apartment.

"Hey! I paid for all this," counters Xander's father furiously. "You want me to sit down, you cough up a couple of grand, Squidly."

Mel's chest inflates, his eyes wide in rage as he steps threateningly toward the groom's father.

"What did you call me, you drunken piece of sh–"

"Mazel-tov!" squeaks Buffy, appearing almost out of nowhere. She swoops between Mel and Mr. Harris and seizes the latter's arm, drawing him away from further alcoholic enticement.

"Hey, what's this?" slurs Xander's dad.

"You must be so happy for Xander on his very special, once-in-a-lifetime day, huh, Mr. Harris?" Buffy says in an overly cheerful voice, loud enough for Spike to hear as she approaches. The black-garbed girl notices the intense look in Spike's eyes and slides her hands up and down his chest, trying in vain to recapture his attention.

Mr. Harris also has eyes only for Buffy, but his interest is much more crude.

"Nice chassis," he nods at the top of her bridesmaid's dress. "What's under the hood? Rrowr!"

"You know, I could use a strong cup of coffee. Hey, let's get you one too, what do you say?"

_Chipper little bint_, Spike thinks, swallowing hard as she passes right by him. _Cor, she's so beautiful_...

Buffy's eyes only flit across him for the briefest second – taking in the ho-bag on his arm, fingers exploring places that had so recently belonged to _her._ One hand is on his black dress shirt, thumbing the top button and threatening to expose more of his alabaster chest, the other hand hidden by the duster, but from its trajectory probably clenched on his ass.

_Doesn't matter who's feeling him up_, she lectures herself. _He was never mine, just... convenient. I can't love him. Ever. Shouldn't be jealous... shouldn't care at all... shouldn't hurt even if I do care..._

"Did you used to own a little square pinkish purse?" Mr. Harris asks blearily, disrupting her conflicted Spike-centered thoughts.

"I did," Buffy sighs, remembering the disaster that was the wedding rehearsal.

"I thought so. Hey, what do you say we slip in the back room and I show you my –"

Buffy cuts him off, buoyant attitude replaced by a glare. "You finish that sentence and I guarantee you won't have anything to show."

They continue walking, and Spike stares after her longingly, a knot in his throat. _Sweet, lovely thing. Didn't think anything could make her more stunnin'... seems bein' all stalwart for her mates could do it right quick. God, Slayer... why can't you let me love you?_

The Goth girl suddenly licks Spike's neck, attempting to replicate the seductive moves he had used on her at the Fish Tank, since apparently groping him is having no effect. Spike hisses at the unexpected warmth applied to what had once been his pulse point.

"Wanna kiss s'more," the girl entreats, finally working another of his buttons loose and fingering the loosened collar of his dress shirt.

Reluctantly, Spike tilts his head within her reach and lets her slip her pierced tongue into his mouth.

* * *

Utterly consumed with horror, Xander gasps as the orb's light fades and stares into the eyes of his older self.

"I'm so sorry," the old man murmurs. "I didn't want to show you."

"What happened?! What was that?!"

"A glimpse of your future. Harnessed... by magic."

"Is she okay?" Xander demands in a panic, terrorized by the last image the orb had projected to him... of himself in a furious rampage, bearing down on a sixty-year-old Anya with a frying pan. "Is she okay, what did I do?!"

"Listen. I don't have long here. The spell that brought me back, it won't last. But _you_ can change things. It doesn't have to go like this. But you _can't_ marry Anya."

"But –"

"You'll hurt her less today than you will later," the nursing-home-escapee insists. "Believe me. Sometimes, two people... all they bring each other... is pain."

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3: You Glow

_A/N: Thank you ObsessedwReading, Rabbit-Moon, Jeremy Shane, Fallen Priestess, and loverswalk89 for your reviews! Sorry for the long update waits on all my stories. Finals week. Ughh._

_This is a longer chapter relatively speaking. All Buffy/Spike._

_Much of the dialog is straight out of "Hells Bells", just with a bit more 'behind the scenes', if you will – the thoughts and emotions underneath the words. References "Fool for Love". Also briefly quotes "Crush", "Lovers Walk", and "Once More, With Feeling"._

* * *

**Chapter 3: You Glow**

_- - The time is ticking; people ask me how I've been as I comb back through the memories - - _

"Will you _quit_ that?" Spike growls, re-buttoning half the buttons on his dress shirt for what feels like the twentieth time. Most of the wedding guests are in their seats already, but he remains at the back of the Buffalo Lodge's lobby, pacing slightly, shoving out of the skank's arms every time she tries to pin him in place. The only reason he hasn't dragged the annoying bint up the side aisle and plunked down into an uncomfortable plastic chair is that sitting together will give her greater access to slide her clumsy hands all over his body. _Movin' is better, stave off this tension buildin' up in me, just enough feeble relief to keep me from peltin' right out the door..._

The girl pouts. "Nobody's watching us. Being naughty is fun..."

"I said _hands off the belt_," he insists, his voice more feral. _Would've ripped her head off by now if not for the blasted, buggerin' chip!_ "We're not in a soddin' brothel."

Someone swathed in that horrible green approaches, and Spike takes a reflexive step away from the Goth girl, but to his relief the approaching bridesmaid isn't Buffy; it's a demon woman with springy brown curls and an opal pendant hanging from a gold chain at her neck.

"William!" Halfrek smiles. "How are you? Such a long time, well, apart from that little tiff at Buffy's birthday party, but in my defense poor little Dawnie was so hurt... oh, silly me! Didn't even let you answer! How are you, William?"

"Uh... fine," Spike answers gruffly, preoccupied by the bimbo's continued attempts to get her hands inside his clothes.

"You don't recognize me, do you?" the demon simpers, twirling a hand at the carving-like skin markings covering her face.

"Er... I think I'd remember a mug like yours, pet."

"Oh, honestly, William, there's no need to be bashful. I hope you haven't been holding those careless little words against me all these years. '_Beneath me_'... I know I could have been a little kinder about it, but I mean... I was _undercover_ at the time, needed you to leave the party so nothing happened to you."

He squints at the vengeance demon, noticing how her blue eyes change in shade every way she turns her head. When they'd come face to face in Buffy's house, her voice had sparked just a prickle of recognition, but until now he hadn't bothered to suss out why.

"Cecily...?" he whispers, his stomach seeming to plummet down to the floor.

"Oh! You do remember me!" she giggles, clapping her hands delightedly.

_Bloody-well remember you... 'member how you ripped open my untouched heart when I laid it in front of you, 'member how I died that night... best _and_ worse thing that's ever happened to me_...

"Been a while," he mutters, looking anywhere but at Halfrek or at the stick-thin harlot on his arm.

"Yes, yes it has," nods Hallie, smiling. "The hundred years look good on you though, William. Don't let this go to your head, but I _adore_ how you've turned out! All leather and bleach and badass... you're just darling!"

"Wait... did you date _this_ chick?" demands the Goth girl, retracting her hand from Spike's chest. Spike just rolls his eyes, too overcome by the strange reunion to care what the hussy thinks of his previous love life, or lack thereof.

Halfrek titters and takes the girl by the hand. "Oh, no, no, no! William and I never went steady. He was always sweet, but just a bit too... oh, how should I say it?... _delicate_, at the time."

To Spike's astonishment, Halfrek slips an arm tighter around the confused floozy and starts hustling her away towards the ladies' room. "But I _do_ have some fabulous stories to tell," she continues gleefully. "He once wrote me this poem... poor boy... used the phrase 'a bulge' in mixed company..."

Spluttering slightly, Spike leans his back against the wall and just stares after the two women. _What the hell? Halfrek, Anya's demon gal-pal... Cecily Addams... cartin' away the bane of my evening without so much as a 'we'll be back in a mo'...? What the bloody hell's goin' on?_

Then another glint of green catches his eyes, and this time his insides seem to hollow out, leaving nothing but his bare bones.

Buffy pauses as his gaze moves over her then almost immediately flicks back to the floor. _That's new... never seen him _afraid_ when he looks at me, even those few times when we could fight all out, no holds barred, and I nearly beat him. Kinda looks... horsewhipped... and _I_ did that. _I_ put that look on his face._

Steeling herself, she crosses the corridor and approaches him.

"Hello, Buffy." _Too soft? Do I sound as scared witless as I feel?_

"Hey." Her reply sounds as depressed as he looks.

_Blimey, aren't we a cheery lot?_ Struggling to reclaim any pinch of self-assurance, Spike swallows and pushes off the wall slightly.

"Happy occasion. You meet my friend?"

Buffy almost winces, just the slightest tightening in her neck at the memory of what Dawn had said and what she herself had briefly witnessed as she'd led Xander's father away to get forcibly sobered up. Spike and... his "friend"... the smirk on his face while the Goth sleaze-bag teased his lips with the silver bead on her tongue...

"No. Not yet." Buffy says, somewhat stiffly. "But she seems like a... very nice attempt at making me jealous."

_She... she's really jealous? Cause the 'rebound' ho-bitch is maulin' up the insides of my mouth with her piercing? Is this what I asked for, near a year ago... a crumb... a barest smidgen... maybe, someday, there's a chance...? Some small sign that she cares?_

"Is it working?" he asks, daring to show a flicker of a smile.

"A little," admits Buffy. "It doesn't change anything... but if you're wildly curious, yeah, it hurts."

"I'm sorry..." Spike whispers before he can stop himself, desperate to banish that soft, sincerely pained look in those huge jade eyes, complemented by the ridiculous green of her bridesmaid's gown. Then he blinks quickly, trying to backtrack. _That was the point, you nit! You're evil! Brought the useless tart to save face and make the Slayer sorry she used your ass and threw you away a'soon as she was tired of you!_ "Or... good!"

Buffy smiles a little, recognizing his bravado for the ruse it is.

"You want us to go?" Spike offers, shrugging and feeling more ashamed of himself by the moment.

"No. No, I... you have every right to be here. I pretty much deserve –"

"That's not true," he cuts her off, abandoning pretense. "You..." Lost for words, he sighs and stares at the ceiling. "God, this is hard."

"Yeah," murmurs Buffy. She folds her fingers together, staving off the itch to reach for him. _Can't do that anymore. Have to be strong, Slayer strong. He's so very wrong for me... but he loves me in whatever way a soulless being knows how to love..._

"I think we'll go," he mumbles. _Too shamefaced to stay and pretend I'm not achin' for you, pet._

"Go where? Your place?" Buffy asks, innocently rather than accusatory, which only twists Spike's insides into tighter knots.

"Yeah... I s'pose. That was the idea." _Oh, bollocks..._

"Yeah," nods Buffy, eyes dropping to the floor.

"Evil," Spike shrugs defensively.

"Of course."

_There's that stalwart tone again, makin' the best out'a the worst, out'a all life has thrown at her... Cripes, how can I pull myself away from you, pet?_ _No way in hell am I gonna shack up with the bint..._

"But I won't..." Spike glances off toward the doorway where Hallie and the Goth chick disappeared, and the thought of letting the rebound girl touch him again sets off pained firecrackers in his stomach. "Or I... I'll just go!" he huffs, giving up on sounding out his hollow excuses. "Give 'em my best or whatever. The, er, happy couple."

"I will," Buffy agrees, smiling a little at Spike's eye-rolling.

_This is it... this is when I walk away and leave 'er be... and she lets me rest in peace..._

"It's nice to watch you be happy, for them, even." he whispers, trying to sweep the previous awkwardness under the rug. "I don't see it a lot. You, uh... you glow." _Effulgent._

Buffy smiles genuinely, flattered, then smirks. "That's because the dress is radioactive."

Spike lets out a light, snorting laugh, then grins even more widely as her own smile lights up her eyes. _Love you, lamb... love seein' you happy... I could make you _content_, for a time at least, makin' you feel alive... but not happy... I'd give my right hand to make you happy..._

Buffy cuts off their moment of mutual smiles, glancing away toward the bride's prep-room. "I should..."

"Yeah." Spike shoves away from the wall and takes a few steps as she starts to walk past him. "But it hurts?" he mumbles suddenly to Buffy's back.

She stops, and he watches her neck tense for the briefest instant before she glances over her shoulder at him.

"Yeah."

The regretful '_Thanks'_ he was about to murmur dies on his tongue. Gently slipping a hand against her waist – and being careful not to muss her dress or up-do – Spike leans in and kisses her hair just above her left temple.

"Love you, Buffy," he murmurs quietly, voice husky.

For once, she doesn't give him grief for saying it, yell that he can't love without a soul, or – whenever anything affectionate had slipped out of his mouth when they'd been in bed – slap him and then play rougher, like clawing her hands into his pale shoulders or biting him. She's constantly accused _him_ of being the heartless animal... when all the time _she_'s been the one with her heart in a cage, hiding her pain from her friends and sister and dumping her anger on the only person who could understand what it's like to be unmade and then scrambled back together by unnatural forces. The way he'd held her hands that first night... and known instantly why her knuckles were bleeding and bruised... Spike always knew...

Though Buffy's head reels with thoughts and regrets, her body remains stiff and still, and Spike withdraws silently, the only sound the clunks of his boots on the floor. She turns once he's several yards away across the room, watching him. Most observers would assume he's strutting, if not for that slight hunch in his shoulders... the strained muscles in his neck and jaw.

"Thanks," Buffy says, though she knows he can't hear her. _Thank you, Spike... for loving me when I can't even love myself..._

He sees the Goth harlot emerge with Halfrek from the bathroom and gives them both the most furious, disgusted sneer he can manage. Eyebrows rising into her mess of ringlets, Halfrek scurries off toward the front row of seats, and Spike seizes the tattooed girl's hand.

"Let's go, then."

"What about the wedding?" she demands in confusion.

"Let's just piss off, a'right?"

He bites back his pain through harsh, seething words, angrily shoves open the door, and pulls her out into the rain.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4: Change of Plans

_A/N: Thank you ObsessedwReading, Rabbit-Moon, Jeremy Shane, Fallen Priestess, and loverswalk89 for your reviews, and also thanks for your patience! I had to move to and from college twice over the last three weeks._

_This chapter is half-and-half Xander and Spike and is where things really start to change. And I couldn't resist throwing in the sneaky Star Wars and Avengers quotes. Enjoy! ;)_

* * *

**Chapter 4: Change of Plans**

_- -_ _I just want to be alone but your close friends always seem to know when there's something really wrong - -_

No matter how many times he paces across the Bison Lodge's kitchen, Xander can't get the images from the orb out of his head. Even worse are the sounds – the voices of his unhappy, unloving children, Anya's bitter tone of defeat, his own pent up rage. This couldn't happen. He couldn't hurt Anya like that, the way he'd watched his mother be treated for twenty-one years. He couldn't become his father, drowning his existence away in alcohol, destroying those closest to him with cruel words and raised fists...

"I'll say this for the Y-chromosome... looks good in a tux," says a soft, sweet voice in the kitchen doorway.

Xander turns to meet the gaze of his best friend – and today, his best man, albeit wearing a neon-green bridesmaid's dress matching those of Buffy and Dawn.

"Well, your double X's don't look too bad there, either," Xander offers, struggling to force the fear from his face. Willow crosses to him and fiddles with the lapels of his tux, looking as though she's about to start shedding tears of joy.

"You're getting _married_. My little Xander."

"All growed up," he says in a cheekily un-grown-up voice.

"It's a good thing I realized I was gay, otherwise, hey," she raises her eyebrows suggestively. "You, me, formal wear..."

A smile – if a small one – tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he wraps his arms around Willow, hiding his conflicted face over her shoulder. _How could I be such a good friend... but such a horrible husband? What will Willow think of me all those years from now? Will she even be alive, or will I lose her _and_ Buffy in one horrible battle?_

"Do you know how much I love you?" she murmurs, unaware of his painful thoughts.

"Mmm... 'bout half as much as I love you," Xander replies hoarsely.

Smiling, Willow pulls back and flicks away happy tears with the tip of her pinkie finger.

"Ready for the long walk?" she grins.

"Um... yeah, just... give me a sec. I wanna work on my vows."

Willow nods and lightly pecks his cheek with her lips, removing the slight lipstick mark with her thumb. "Take your time. It's not like we can start the wedding without you."

He chuckles croakily, and Willow starts moving back towards the door out of the kitchen. As she sets her fingertips on the handle, she turns around again, mouth pressing in a worried line.

"Xander... are you okay?"

He licks clammy moisture off his upper lip. _Willow, help me! I can't... I can't do it. I'm sweating through my tux, and my feet are colder than Santa's laundry hanging out to dry, and I love Anya so much and I can't do this to her! I can't destroy her life! I can't do this... I can't get married... I'm not ready to be the man she deserves..._

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

Smiling warmly, Willow slips out and heads for the bride's suite, leaving the anxious, trembling groom staring between the door she just departed through... and the emergency exit sign over the door in the far back of the kitchen.

* * *

They storm down the rainy street away from the Bison Lodge, Spike's hands deep in his duster pockets, the Goth girl hanging onto his elbow for dear life.

"Slow down!" she whines.

"Shut up," is his only reply. _Dammit... what'm I gonna do with this tart? Not goin' to the crypt, that's for bloody sure... though come to think of it, she might see the mess, scream 'What're you tryin' to do, give me tetanus?!' and run away... unless she's got a kink for shaggin' in a blown up cave. It'd be just my kind of luck if she does..._

"Can't we just go inside somewhere and... get warm?" she pleads, aiming to be suggestive but failing miserably, since Spike barely pays her any heed.

_Bollocks if I can even remember her name. Leila, maybe... or Delilah... or some such tosh. A bad-girl wannabe that wouldn't be worth a bat of an eye if I wasn't keen to make Buffy miss me so much._

And it had worked – he'd seen the honest pain in the Slayer's eyes – and it made him want to cut off his own arm.

_Cripes, I'm such a jerk._

"Hey..."

He pulls his hand free from the skanky girl's grip and faces her, rain dripping down both their faces. "Now, look here, miss..."

"You can't even remember my name!" she grumbles, crossing her arms.

_Busted. Well, no use even _botherin'_ to be nice to the bint now_.

"No, I can't remember your soddin' name. Didn't care when you told me, an' don't care now. Frankly, I wouldn't give a care if you were Her Majesty the Queen of Merry Ol' England."

"But you said –"

"I know I led you on, let you think I fancied you or some drivel like that, but I'm not sorry one quid," he plows on, internally shuddering at what he remembers saying to the skank after he'd kissed her into a melting, gasping wreck against the outside wall of the bar. _Probably somethin' about bonkin' her until she screamed bloody murder, so long as she pretended to be my bird at the wedding._ "Should've never come over to that lousy dive where I found you. Come to think of it, you ought'a be bleedin' grateful to me that I hauled you out of there. Airhead like you'd pro'ly be dead in an alley by now if you'd stayed there."

"Hey!"

"I'm not finished, you mewlin' quim!" he growls.

"So now you're saying I'm not gonna get some –"

"That's right, you're not getting another paw-full of me. Just shut your gob an' sod off."

"I won't!" she shouts over him, mascara streaming down her cheeks. She's starting to remind him more and more of Harmony.

"Yes, you bloody will, or I'll call the coppers an' tell 'em what I saw you smokin' at that gin mill. Wonder when the Fish Tank last had a good raid. I'm willin' to bet your mates won't take too kindly to hearin' it was _you_ who sold them out."

Her already pale face blanches, eyes wide with horror.

"Don't you dare!" she shouts, a hint of a pleading beg in her voice. "I'll, I'll do... anything... anything you want."

Her hand reaches almost reflexively for his belt buckle, but Spike backs up, holding up his hands with both palms facing her.

"Why don't you go on home? Rethink your life," he suggests in a much calmer tone than he'd used so far. "If you can't find squat to do in this town without gettin' your little self in trouble, leave. Take the bus down to LA, set yourself up waitressin' or sommit. Anythin's better than this livin' hell."

The sleazy Goth girl doesn't seem to be listening. Her eyes are now trained on something behind him, confusion on her face. Spike sniffs the air as he turns around, and when he sees the burly figure approaching, his left hand slips slowly back into his duster pocket and grasps a stake.

"Evenin' Argus," he shouts across the twenty rain-lashed feet that separate him from the yellow-eyed newcomer. "Thought D'Hoffryn made it pretty clear that there wasn't gonna be trouble in Sunny-hell today on account of his favorite girl's wedding. Why don't you toddle off now, there's a good lad."

"Word was to just keep off the block by the Bison Lodge," calls back the vampire named Argus. "Didn't say anything about the pickings on this side of town. Been hearing some pretty funny things about you, Spike. Somehow got Teeth to call off his debt... lost those Suvolte Eggs... boy-toy to the Slayer..."

Spike charges the split second after hearing Argus's last words. With an almighty roar, he draws his demon face to the forefront, fangs bared and eyes threatening. Argus has a hundred pounds of advantage, but William the Bloody has a hundred _years_. The cat-like blond plows into his larger opponent with the force of a cannonball, knocking him flat on his back. He punches twice with his right fist, then raises the stake with his left, and sinks it through Argus's chest before the rankling fledge is really sure what hit him. The younger vampire turns straight to mud, the dust soaking instantly into the standing water in the street and running down toward the nearest curbside grate.

Spike rises and pockets the bent stake – the tip deformed where it'd hit the asphalt beneath his doubly-deceased challenger. Whipping back around to face the Goth girl, he grins, his extended fangs curling over his lower lip. Her already open mouth starts expanding into a long oval of pure terror.

Knowing he'll pay with a headache, Spike chuckles darkly and licks his lips, lowering his gaze to her sallow neck.

"Maybe you shouldn't go quite yet, luv... maybe I'm thirsty..."

She screams so hard he's surprised her lungs don't come flying out her throat, and then flees toward the nearest side-street, nearly tripping on her heels and the oversized train of her jacket. When the twinge of pain from the chip dissipates, Spike smirks to himself, smugly realizing that even _if_ he sicked the police onto the other drugged-up clubbers at the Fish Tank, he wouldn't even be able to give them the floozy's name.

Shaking water from his coat, he tears down the street back toward the Bison Lodge... while several blocks away, a downcast man in a black tuxedo plods slowly through the rain.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_Author's note: Please review and let me know if you like the trajectory I'm heading in so far._


	5. Chapter 5: The Spark

_A/N: Thank you for your reviews, and also thanks for your patience! In the midst of my hectic semester, I've managed to keep up with "Five Words Or Less" and "Take It All Away", but my smaller stories have slid to the back burner. Definitely haven't been able to update once a week like I originally thought. Sorry! Hopefully this chapter somewhat makes up for that!_

_Shout out to Forever-Furuba for that message a while back, encouraging this story idea!_

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Spark**

_- -_ _You should have been there, should have burst through the door with that 'Baby, I'm right here' smile and it would have felt like a million little shining stars had just aligned, and I would have been so happy - -_

Tara stares up at Anya, her mind racing to find something positive to say about the last segment of revised vows the bride-to-be had just recited.

"Uh, sex poodle?"

"Yeah," replies Anya brightly. "Why?"

"Um… I'm n-not sure you should say 'sex poodle' in your v-vows."

"Huh," Anya shrugs, adjusting her silver necklace as the sounds of a string quartet sound from the lobby. "Music! They're playing the music! This is it!"

She practically hops up and down with excitement, and the door to the bridal suit opens, revealing Buffy in the hallway.

"Are you ready to go?" she asks, a smile on her face but not in her heart. _This is it. This is what life should be like – happy… for them, for my friends. But am _I_ happy? Do I even know what happy _is_ anymore?_

Before Anya or Tara can answer, Buffy feels her arm tugged backwards and turns, pulling the door shut and facing a frantic-looking Willow.

"He's gone!" the redhead gasps. "Xander's disappeared!"

"What? Xander's gone?"

Willow nods and bats her hands at her eyes, trying to both fight tears and dry the ones that have already seeped to the surface.

"He… I should have realized! Buffy, he seemed so scared, but I just assumed it was cold feet, you know? I didn't think he would _actually_ get cold feet and _leave_!"

"What should we do?" Buffy demands.

Both of the green-clad girls suddenly jump at the sound of a slamming door off to their right, and a whirlwind of black and blond charges toward them. Spike comes to a panting halt about two feet away from Buffy and Willow, his chest heaving in that realistic human way that sets him apart from all other vampires. He's dripping wet, his platinum hair unslicked and beautifully chaotic, his black shirt plastered to his perfect body.

"Spike?"

Buffy's voice squeaks from her throat in a stifled whisper, internally fighting how pleased she is to see him back here. Looking utterly anguished, Spike lifts his arms in desperation.

"I'm a lousy prat!" he shouts, his hands swinging back down and slapping his soaked sides. "I'm sorry, a'right? I shouldn't… shouldn't have let you walk out on me. Too proud, I s'pose, just watchin' you walk away and pretendin' I could forget and move on. Well, that's not gonna happen. I'm a goner, luv. Can't move on. Can't get over you. Be stuck cravin' you for the rest of my dearly-soddin'-departed days."

Buffy just gapes, completely forgetting about Willow's presence, totally absorbed in the frantic, sopping wet vampire, the anguish in his eyes, and the words flowing messily and freely from his full, coral-colored lips.

"Said som'it like this to you once before, pet, but in the terror of that night, you might've forgotten. But even if you haven't, I'm sayin' it again. I know you'll never love me. Know it now more than ever. 'Cause I'm a monster… but there's a bit of man left in me, and he's not ever givin' up on you. An' there's nothin' you or I can do about it, not one bleedin' thing. I'll be in love with you 'till it kills me."

"Uh…" says Willow nervously, glancing between Spike and Buffy, and noticing tears sparkling in the eyes of the later. "Should I, uh, go? Or just…"

"Tried to give you up, brought that ear-yankin' tattooed bitch here to make you jealous," Spike continues as though Willow hasn't spoken at all. He takes another small step closer to Buffy, who just gazes at him, nonplussed. "An' I took one look at you, Buffy, and I knew I couldn't do it. That little glimpse of the hurt in your eyes, the hurt I put there… God, luv, it ripped me apart. But seein' that look… well, it's given me all the hope I need. That crumb. You may be willin' to give up on us, but I'm not. And I'll do anythin', even if that means denyin' what I am, findin' the spark, gettin' what you deserve."

"_Spike_…" Buffy attempts to find her voice, but she's not even sure his enhanced ears can pick up her whisper this time.

"Timin's up to you, pet, but I'll do it. Have a jaunt over to the other side of the world, some place in Africa last I heard. I'll go… see a man about a demon… an' a demon about a soul. Want me to stay 'round here for a few hours first, assumin' I'm still invited, or head off sharpish?"

_Soul_. The word rings in her ears, undeniable. _He said 'soul'… the spark… get what I deserve… what he thinks would make the difference… what would let me love him… but would it? Or is that the excuse I keep building up, the wall I've erected as my own excuse for what I feel? _'You can make me feel…'

"Spike," she breathes, this time putting the barest amount of volume behind his name. But just then Tara opens the door and slips out into the hallway, looking nervously at Buffy and Willow.

"I just wondered w-what was… going… on…"

Her words fade away as she stares at Buffy, recognizing a light in her eyes that hasn't been there for months… a light she'd only briefly glimpsed during that one odd evening of memory loss, and before then, perhaps not for a year, certainly not since Joyce had passed away… a light that Tara knows only glows in her own eyes when she looks at Willow. Love.

"Um, close the door," says Willow, hesitant to interrupt the fervent moment between Spike and the Slayer. Tara complies, and Willow pulls on her arm until she can whisper in her ear. "It's Xander. He's… missing. I can't find him. I was about to go look some more. You and Buffy need to stall, keep Anya from knowing –"

"I'll go! I'll find Harris!"

Willow, Buffy, and Tara turn to Spike with astonishment, and he nods urgently. "Yeah! I'll track him down. So long as you witchy types keep the sun hidden away. Can't have gone too far. Yeah, I'll go find him and set him straight. Show him he's a daft fool for skippin' out on the woman he loves. Know the feelin'."

His gaze rests on Buffy again, and his eyes soften sadly. "An'… then I'll go… get the spark. Not sure how long it'll take, or to be honest what shape I'll be in when I get it. But I'll come back, someday I'll come back to you, luv."

It takes all her Slayer focus to turn her quivering jaw into an actual shake of her head.

"No… Spike, please. Come back... now… f-for the wedding. Please…"

His eyes flare with hope. Before Tara and Willow can do anything but gasp, Spike hurls himself on Buffy, claiming her mouth with his cool lips, and her hesitancy shatters. Her hands wrest up into his damp hair, further rumpling the already mussed white curls, and she moans as he tilts back her head with the desperation of his glorious kiss, their lips and tongues tangling. She grips his duster collar, pulling him closer until she's squeezed in his arms, plundering his mouth and – for the first time – giving as much affection as she receives.

Though their eyes remain on the enraptured blond couple, Willow and Tara slowly find each other's fingers, weaving them together like they'd done when lacing up Anya's dress.

"Spike!" Buffy gasps in longing when he draws back and merely leans his forehead against hers. His hand traces up her neck and brushes over her hair bun and the white flower by her ear.

"I'll be back, luv," he whispers hoarsely, his breathing coming in heavy swells of his chest. "Hell, after that, nothin' in this world got the power to keep me away."

He presses his lips to her forehead with a throaty groan, then releases her and blinks, noticing Tara and Willow.

"I'll, uh, be quick as I can, but the guests in there look right antsy. Keep Demon Girl in the dark as long as you're able."

Giving Buffy one last glowing smile, he rushes toward the door of the Bison Lodge lobby and hurtles into the rainy outdoors. Buffy pants as she watches him depart, her body racing from the few seconds of contact with Spike's hard wet one, and turns guiltily to Willow – who just stares at her with tilted eyebrows – and Tara, whose face beams. _At last she knows. She didn't come back wrong... just went about finding love the wrong way_.

"Um… yeah, so, um…"

"I'm just going to go out on a really far-reaching limb here and guess that _wasn't_ the first time you've kissed Spike," Willow mumbles. "I mean, aside from that completely accidental engaged afternoon that I'm still really sorry about and will totally bake you more cookies once I'm not wearing a lot of expensive, ugly-as-hell chiffon."

"Oh… oops." Buffy glances down at the huge watermark down the front of her dress, where Spike had pressed against her.

"Wh-what are we gonna tell Anya?" asks Tara, redirecting their attention to the immediate problem.

Buffy nods and uneasily opens the door back into the bridal suite, poking just her head in so that Anya can't see her half-soaked dress.

"Uh, hey, sorry about that," she flounders, her enormous smile only partly forced, mainly brought on by the head-spinning kiss. "There's… gonna be a bit of a delay."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Buffy replies immediately, allowing Tara to slip past her into the suite. "Nothing's wrong. It's just, um, it, the, the minister! He had, uh… to go… and perform an emergency C-section."

"A C-section?" Anya gapes, while Tara gives her a dubious '_That's all you could come up with?'_ look over the bride's shoulder.

"Yeah. You know he's… uh, not _just_ a minister. He's also a… a doctor! You know, he's half-minister, half-doctor. He's a mini-tor… not, of course, to be confused with a minotaur. Because he's all, you know, man. Doctor-minister-man, no bull parts whatsoever."

Anya seems to ponder this phenomenon for a moment, then turns away towards the mirror and adjusts her curls. "Uh-huh."

"So, it should be just a couple of minutes," says Buffy, nibbling her lip. _Or as long as it takes Spike to chase Xander down and get him to come back. For love. For us._

"Okay," says Anya, preoccupied with her hair and the folds of the veil over her shoulders.

Nodding to Tara, Buffy scrambles back out into the hall, closes it, and sighs in relief, staring at Willow.

"Well, that could have been worse."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6: Legacy

_A/N: Thank you for your reviews, and also thanks for your patience! I think this story will be wrapped up within three to four more chapters. I'm trying to finish it before November because of NaNoWriMo. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 6: Legacy**

_- -_ _I try not to fall apart and the sinking feeling starts_ _- -_

Still a little jittery from her full-body hug with Spike, Buffy smoothes down the damp front of her dress and walks on clicking heels down the aisle, the demon guests on her left, and the Harrises on her right. After only a few steps, the string quartet strikes up _Here Comes the Bride_, and, mortified, Buffy flaps her hands to silence them.

"No! No, it isn't…" She tries to convey the situation, but can't do much better than make throat-cutting gestures until the musicians hesitantly halt. "It's not what you think."

The guests whisper among themselves, some angrily, some confused, and Xander's cousin Carol dabs her eyes with her handkerchief, deeply moved. Reaching the dias, Buffy covers the microphone with one hand and stands on tiptoe to whisper in the minister's ear.

"We, um… we're going to be running a bit behind schedule. No emergency, but, um, just a little delay."

He nods, a bit dubious at her vagueness, and Buffy retreats back down the aisle, too exasperated to do anything more than glare at the mistaken musicians when they start playing a recessional theme.

_Calling these people antsy was a huge understatement! Oh gosh, Spike, please hurry…_

* * *

Xander's feet feel heavier with each step, the rain fully saturating every inch of him. Though he's lived in this town his entire life, he has no earthly idea where he is or where he's headed. He's just alone… alone with the images of the dreaded future he'd be resigning himself and Anya to if he'd stayed.

"Harris! Oi! Harris!"

_Oh, great_. Xander doesn't bother turning around, continuing to slump step by step down the rainy street. The rapid beat of heavy boots draws close behind him, and when Spike reaches his target, he tugs at his shoulder, forcing the tux-clad carpenter to wheel around.

"Cripes! You have any idea how bloomin' hard it's been to track you down in this monsoon?" Spike pants, completely soaked with rainwater.

"Get lost, Deadboy Junior," mumbles the equally dripping groom.

"Yeah, yeah. Look, the girls have caught on to your little bout of iced toesies, but they're keeping the blushin' bride in the dark for now, so as long as we hurry back –"

"I'm not going back, Spike," sighs Xander. "I'm not marrying Anya."

"Come off it!" Spike snorts, holding one arm above his head in an attempt to ward off some of the downpour from hitting his face. "Do you have any idea what you're givin' up? What you're walkin' away from?"

"I'll just make her miserable. Hurting her today will hurt her a lot less than being a rotten husband for thirty years," Xander shrugs, echoing the old man's words.

"Bollocks. That's your fear talkin'. 'Fraid you'll turn out as much of a freeloadin' git as your old man, eh?"

Xander's wet face pales slightly, and he scuffs his shoe against a curb. "What'da you know? Probably can't even remember your dad."

"I can," Spike retorts, a hint of coldness in his voice. "Proper Victorian gentleman, died in a horse-ridin' accident when I was a young lad. But… more importantly, I remember Angelus."

Xander squints at him, befuddled.

"Yeah," Spike says, reading his totally perplexed expression. "You wouldn't think it, but Angelus raised me, in a manner of speakin'. Called him '_my Yoda_' didn't I, on the night I first met all you little Scoobies? Well, that was true. Didn't sire me himself, but taught me all I know about bein' a monster. And it's taken me a good long while to realize that… I didn't have to be him. The kind of demon he is and the kind he wanted me to be… that wasn't my only option. I could branch out, be my own man. That was sort-of the reason I went after Slayers and got a bit bored with the rest of you human munchies. Yeah, I kept drinkin' and drainin' 'em, but it wasn't the long, drawn-out, rip-their-mind-open-first method that I learned from Angelus. Dropped that right 'bout as soon as Dru and I cleared off on our own."

"I still don't see…"

"My point is, mate, you are _not_ your father, any more than I'm Angelus an' have to answer for all his sins and follies. You're your own strappin' man with a bird who's head-over-heels smitten with you, so much that she's wantin' to spend the whole rest of her mortal life with you. Girl's seen centuries of men… and you're the one who turned her 'round, made her realize we aren't all evil sods."

"Speak for yourself."

"I am, Harris, but I'm also speakin' for you. Much as I hate to admit it, you're a fine lad, as far as real boys go. I've got a soft spot for your girl, demon-to-demon an' all, an' I'd tell you right out if you were undeservin' of her. But I'm not. I'm sayin', _if_ you walk away, you will be undeservin', just a right smarmy loser like your pop."

"I'm gonna hurt her," murmurs Xander, almost in a whimper.

"Hurtin' 'er right now, unless Slayer an' the witches have managed to keep your disappearance all hush-hush."

"But… but I saw… she'll hate me…"

"What's this now?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Spike's shoulders heave in annoyance. "Harris… I'm a _vampire_. I live off_ blood_. You really think there's some bugaboo this bloody town has to offer that I'd be in doubt about?"

"Something like eighty-year-old me coming back from the future to tell me this is a mistake?"

"Well, yeah, that's what _I've_ been sayin' this whole ti–"

"No, you idiot. Future me said the _marriage_ was a mistake. He showed me this orb… and I saw things, stuff that would happen."

"Wait…" Spike cuts him off, eyebrows raised, "you're tellin' me that it only took a few minutes of lookin' at some stranger's crystal ball to let you convince yourself to jump ship? You didn't think of maybe makin' the bloke _prove_ he was you? You just took him at his word? Didn't consider that after a thousand years a girl could make some pretty pissed enemies, tryin' to get back at 'er for some wish she granted?"

Xander gulps, his eyes huge under his streaming brown bangs.

"Damn," chuckles Spike, wishing he could light a cigarette to complete his look of smugness. "Maybe Demon Girl's better off without you after all."

* * *

After forty minutes, Buffy's frightfully close to 'out of ideas' panic-mode. Introductions took barely any time at all – since so few of the wedding guests were in any mood to participate – and charades _would have_ taken a lot longer if she'd been able to come up with anything more creative than 'Bison'. So now she's reduced to Buffy the Apple Juggler, competing with Krelvin, the pus-faced demon who's been kind enough to join her on stage. Her one consolation: her dress is finally dry again.

In a doorway just off the lobby – close enough for her to watch her sister but still keep an eye on the rainy parking lot – Dawn sips at her Shirley Temple, amiably conversing with a tall teenage boy… albeit a demon, complete with curved devil horns.

"My family is worse," the boy sighs, watching Krevlin drop all three of his apples and try again.

"No way," Dawn scoffs. "Mine is so messed up, you have no idea."

"No, just wait until you see my mom dance at the reception. _Then_ tell me who's messed up."

He shudders at the thought, and Dawn snickers.

"I guess they're all messed up."

"Yeah, everybody's pretty lame. Geez. What is the holdup?"

Dawn glances into the lobby at her entertaining sister, gives the uninhabited parking lot one more searching glance, and leans closer to the teenaged demon.

"Can you keep a secret? Nobody knows this, but… the groom. He took off, and nobody has found him."

"_What_?"

Dawn and the boy whip around at the sound of Anya's voice. She stands close behind them in full bride regalia, Tara running to catch up to her from the nearby hallway. The boy bows out, leaving Dawn to face the confused former vengeance demon.

"Anya, it's not –"

"Xander's gone? Xander's _missing?_" Anya's voice jumps an octave and doubles in volume, drawing the attention of the entire gathered assembly. "_What do you mean, Xander's missing_?!"

Buffy's apples fall with bruise-inducing _clunks_ to the floor of the dias, and she watches Anya storm forward, her elaborate gown swishing with every step.

"It's a joke," chuckles Xander's Uncle Rory. "Xander's playing a joke. One time, at one of Carol's weddings, I had this ape suit…"

"Oh great," mutters Mel, the tentacle-faced demon, in a stage-whisper that carries throughout the lobby. "Another Harris family joke. You know, why don't you all just have another drink?!"

Mr. Harris stands, gripping the back of his folding chair for support, his words severely slurred. "Drinking… is the only way I can dull the pain… of looking at _your_… ugly… face."

Outraged, Mel stomps over to Xander's father, glares, and taps his crustacean hand against the drunk man's chest. "You'd better think _real_ hard about this, Harris."

"Don't touch me with those nasty circus things!"

One smack later, and the lobby turns to shrieking, brawling chaos. Humans and demons throw punches left, right, and center, and the Sunnydale members of the wedding party waver between trying to break up fights or running for cover. Dawn, Tara, and Willow escape the fray and hide behind the table of presents, while Buffy – eyes rolling – shouts into the microphone, attempting to restore order. After wresting some information out of Cousin Carol, Anya turns her back on the pandemonium to see an old man in a tan trench coat, observing the crowd with a look of satisfaction on his face.

"You!" Anya shouts, lifting her skirt and hurrying toward him. "You talked to Xander right before he left! What did he say to you? What did _you_ say to _him_?"

"It really doesn't matter now, does it?" the elderly man smiles cruelly and turns to leave. "It's done."

"What's done?" demands Anya, tugging back on his shoulder and glowering with her fists clenched. "Did you… If you said something to make him leave…"

"You'll what?" he counters. "Haven't changed a bit. Still as vindictive as ever."

Anya frowns and looks the man over. "Do I know you?"

"You don't recognize me, Anya? I'm not the man I used to be, I know."

She shakes her head, glances back into the main lobby as Buffy hollers something else into the microphone, and then grabs the man's arm again as he attempts to slip away.

"Where is he? Xander! You tell me, old man! You tell me why he left!"

"He left because of _you_," he growls, shoulders hunching threateningly.

"I… I didn't do anything," Anya replies helplessly.

"Oh really? What about… this?"

The old man steps back and then expands, growing taller and wider, seemingly molting as his flesh takes on new colors of grey and yellow. Its garments become a long robe of black and brown burlap, and bony spikes emerge from its skull. Fixing Anya with an amber-eyed glare, it growls at her in a deep, unrecognizable voice.

"I've been waiting a long time for this, Anyanka."

* * *

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7: Return

_A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! This is the penultimate chapter!_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Return**

_- -_ _What do you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know?  
What do you do when the one who means the most to you is the one who didn't show? - -_

Quailing at the feet of the massive demon, Anya shakes her head, utterly perplexed by his accusation. Behind her, pandemonium reigns, Buffy still desperately yelling through the microphone at the bigoted Harrises and affronted demons.

"Who are you?" the bride demands, earning an exasperated glower from the monster.

"Remember Chicago? South side, 1914?" Off her blank look, he growls venomously. "Stewart Burns, philanderer! You'd think you'd remember. I remember _you_. But then again, you ruined my life!"

"You were a… I punished you."

"That's right!" he snarls. "Some hussy I'd been taking around summons you. Next thing I know, I look like this and I'm being tortured in another dimension."

"I forgot," she murmurs.

"Well I didn't!"

Its huge clawed arm lashes out, knocking Anya backward.

"Anya!"

Above the uproar, Buffy finally notices the aggressor and runs from the dais, fighting her way through the crowd.

"Every day I remembered," the demon continues, looming over his chosen victim. "And every day I thought how I would somehow get here and ruin your life like you ruined mine. It didn't take much either. I scared off your fiancé with a couple of phony visions."

"Visions of what?" asks Anya, trembling and near tears.

"Your future. Or his _nightmare_ version of your future."

"That's it? Th-that's all you did?"

"Yeah," the monster chuckles, "it was _easy_. Look at that… you're crying. Oh, I like that."

Anya wipes feebly at her eyes. "Stop it."

"Oh, cry, Anyanka, cry. I love to see you cry. And now… I'd love to see you _scream_!"

He swipes his claws toward her again, slashing her arm and knocking her to the floor. Finally free of the mob, Buffy grabs the nearest folding chair and hurls it at the creature. It shrieks and growls, snatching up Anya and holding her before his body like a shield. Buffy tries to rush him, but her dress hampers her, so she reaches down for the hem and tugs a long slit up the side of the skirt.

"Come any closer and I'll kill her!" the demon threatens, shaking Anya.

The door to the Bison Lodge's lobby bursts open, making Buffy, Anya, and most of the guests gasp and turn to stare. Spike runs in, his leather duster smoking in the sudden sunshine, and just behind him stands Xander, thoroughly drenched. The wide-eyed groom gapes at the scene before him – his Anya in her stunning dress, and the fiend holding her viciously.

"Anya!"

"Xander!" she calls back, quaking in the demon's grip.

"GGGRRAAGGHH!"

The monster yowls as Buffy uses the distraction to kick him hard between the legs. Snarling, he drops Anya and cringes under the Slayer's onslaught of punches, Spike rushing up to help. Anya runs to Xander, who catches her in the tightest hug of his life.

"Are you alright?" he pants, half smothered by her veil and curled hair.

"I'm so… I'm so glad you came back! It was all lies, what he showed you… it wasn't true! He just wanted to break us up!"

"I know, Ahn. I know. It doesn't matter now."

"So we'll be okay?"

"Spike! Veil!" Buffy hollers, jabbing the beast in the ribs so strongly that he keels over onto his face on the floor. From the pocket of his burlap robe, the tiny glass orb slips out and shatters, sputters of pale purple light emanating all around it. As Xander stares, glimpses flash through his head, unseen by any others in the lobby…

_… Twenty years from now, a bright morning in an upscale Sunnydale home. Setting off for his job as project manager for his successful construction company, Xander kisses his beautiful wife as she hands him his coffee and bids him "a great day bringing home the money!" At the door, he's mobbed at the knees by two happy, healthy, human children, both with his dark locks and Anya's coffee-colored eyes…_

_… Thirty years from now, a holiday gathering, the Scoobies and their progeny filling three squished-together tables at the best restaurant in town. Xander sits beside Anya, still lovely at fifty, with their immaculately dressed son Josh and hipster daughter Sarah on either side. Across the table, Dawn and her Navy Seal husband fawn over giggly twin boys, and Tara's redheaded daughter sits adoringly between her two moms. Spike, looking very 'Randy Giles' in a rust-colored suit, stands and toasts his wife, the longest reigning Slayer in history, to which a blushing Buffy hisses, "Oh, sit down, Master of Sunnydale"…_

_… Forty years from now, evening in a modest apartment complex. Now that all their children have flown the coop, the four couples sit in lazy-boy chairs around a game of Risk. His arm around Anya, Xander points out with amusement the fact that Spike has dyed his platinum hair silver to complement his sixty-year-old wife. Everyone but the vampire is a little older, a little heavier, but still bright-eyed and glowing with life and energy and the immeasurable happiness of having a partner who will be by your side, come what may… _

All these images flood Xander's brain in the time it takes Spike to hear Buffy's instructions. The vampire turns, dashes around Xander and Anya, rips the length of sheer white tulle from the bison's head on the wall, and rushes back to Buffy. She hooks a loop around the creature's neck and pulls, while Spike holds the monster down, grinning at the sight of the slit up Buffy's skirt.

_SMASH!_ Xander brains the demon with the base of a white pedestal, and the wedding crasher goes totally limp. Slamming the pillar down once more for good measure, Xander stares at the monster that spun his life into twisted lies and nearly ruined his chance at happiness.

"It's dead," he assesses after a few moments of silence.

"Yup," says Buffy, giving the creature's ribs a verifying kick. Willow and Tara break free from the cheering crowd and join Anya, all staring at the demon's corpse.

"You thought _this_ ugly bastard was you at eighty?" Spike snorts. "Harris, even _you_ aren't this homely lookin'."

"He looked different earlier," Xander protests.

"Is anyone else waiting for it to go poof?" asks Willow dubiously. "Maybe we can cover it with flowers."

"Look at all this damage," grumbles Xander's father, waving his hands at the scattered chairs, floral arrangements, and tulle. "I'm not paying for this, you freaks!"

"Stop calling us freaks!" Krelvin, the pustule-covered demon, gives Mr. Harris a good shove, and the fighting resumes instantly, humans and demons flailing at each other, total mob complex.

"STOP IT!" Anya yells at the top of her voice, and the fighting throng pauses, staring mutely at the bride. "Everyone SIT DOWN! This wedding WILL go on, so get back in your seats!"

Chagrinned, Harrises and demons alike straighten the rows of while folding chairs and demurely sit. Anya turns around and slips her hands into Xander's large ones, while Buffy, Spike, Willow, and Tara step aside to give them privacy.

"You know, it's bad luck to see me in my dress," she reminds her sopping groom, a little shaken but still smiling.

Xander gazes at her, eyes shimmering with moisture. "Ahn, I'm so sorry…"

"Hey. It's okay. It's all over now. He's dead, and it was just smoke and mirrors."

"I know, honey."

"So… we're ready now. Let's get married."

"Ahn…"

He remains holding her hands, keeping her by the door when she turns to head towards the aisle.

"I… I messed up, Ahn. He knew right where to hit me. I was so scared…"

"It wasn't real," she insists, clutching at his hands. "What he showed you, it wasn't real. He wanted you to hate me, Xander."

"It wasn't you I was hating. It was me. I had all these thoughts and fears that I couldn't be a good husband to you. I was scared I would hurt you, and that's exactly what I saw. It shook me up… and I freaked… and I left."

"And I tracked your soggy ass down, told you what a wanker you were for jumpin' ship, an' brought you back," Spike mutters, barely audible. Buffy elbows him but is smiling too much to be irritated.

"Leaving you was… it was the biggest mistake of my life," Xander says sorrowfully.

"B-but, it's okay now," Anya insists. "We'll start over. You'll dry off, and I'll… Oh!" she suddenly laments, indicating her dress. "I knew it was too tight! Look, all these roses fell off!"

Beaming, Xander pulls her into another embrace. "You're perfect, honey. C'mon. You're right. We're ready now. Let's get married."

* * *

_To be continued…_

_Author's note: I was trying to come up with a tactful way of saying that for the thirty-years flash-forward, Willow and Tara got kids through a sperm donor, like in the film 'The Kids Are All Right', but then I realized, "Wait a sec. They're witches. They could probably get around that…" Regardless of the medical possibility, I decided to assume that Tara – whom I've always thought would make a fantastic mother – could have a child for both of them. Sort-of a small detail of the chapter, but one that I anguished over._

_I love reviews, so please tell me what you think of how I've altered the episode. The next and final chapter will be up as soon as I can manage._


	8. Chapter 8: That Kind of Love

_A/N: Thank you loverswalk89, Nat-Nat 360, Secret Slayer, and ObsessedwReading for reviewing, and thank you all for reading, reviewing, and putting up with my inconsistent posting schedule. Again, I thank __**Forever-Furuba**__ for contributing to this story's original idea._

_Unrelated note: "Five Words or Less" has just been nominated at the Sunnydale Memorial Fanfiction Awards. If you also enjoy that story and would like to vote for it, please do._

_Some of Xander's vow is from the episode "Into the Woods", and some of Spike's toast is from "Beneath Me". The song at the end is 'That Kind of Love' by Alison Krauss, and plays at the end of "Entropy". I recommend it as background music. (:_

* * *

**Chapter 8: That Kind of Love**

_- -_ _And that was the moment I knew - -_

Xander and Spike stand on the right side of the minister, watching the flamboyantly green bridesmaids traverse the aisle, gowns rustling. Halfrek winks at Spike as she takes her seat beside D'Hoffryn, but the vampire only has eyes for Buffy, who remains standing with Dawn and Tara while Willow joins the men.

The string quartet strikes up the Wedding March, and all the guests – enmity forgotten – rise and face the foot of the aisle. With the scratches to her arm concealed by a hastily-applied bandage, Anya steps forward in a daze of joy and fulfillment, bouquet in hand. She meets Xander at the front of the aisle and hands her bouquet off to Buffy, and as the music fades, the bride and groom step forward to the edge of the dais.

The ceremony is short – neither of the couple being religious – and when the minister asks for the rings, Willow places the two gold bands into Xander's palm. Anya takes Xander's hand, looks him straight in the eyes – her own moist with tears of happiness – and begins her vows.

"I, Anya Christina Emmanuelle Jenkins, want to marry you, Xander, because I love you… and I'll always love you. Before I knew you, I was a completely different person, not even a _person_, really. And I'd seen what love could do to people… and it was hurt, and sadness. Alone was better. And then suddenly there was you, and you knew me. You make me feel safe, and warm. So… I get it now. I finally _get_ love, Xander. I really do. I love you."

There's not a single dry eye in the building. Even Spike clears his throat gruffly and pats Xander on the back as the trembling carpenter accepts his ring. His voice scratchy and bashful, Xander begins his own vows, completely winging it, abandoning his previous ideas and just speaking from his heart.

"I… Alexander Lavelle H-Harris… love you, Anya. I love you so much, more every day. I love the way you see things… and how amazingly sweet and crazy you can be at the same time. I promise to grow old with you… and love you every little moment I'm breathing… and share as many waffles as you could ever want. I'll win the Guinness World Record for Most Waffle-Sharing Husband. 'Cause I don't know what I'd do without you, Babe. I can't imagine my days without you, and I wouldn't want to. I just want to be your husband… and your partner, and your sex poodle."

Anya's teary eyes brighten. "Sex poodle?"

"Uh-huh," Xander replies, then looks nervously at the minister. "Sh-should I not have said 'sex poodle'?"

"It's perfectly alright," he reassures him. Relieved, Xander slips his ring's counterpart onto Anya's slim finger, and the minister beams at them. "With the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Xander, you may now kiss your bride."

Amidst the applause from the wedding attendees, he pulls Anya into his still slightly-damp arms and pressed his mouth to her coral-colored lips. Dawn cheers, Spike whoops, and Buffy chokes back happy tears, trying to keep them from dripping into Anya's bouquet. To the celebratory music of the quartet, Xander and Anya sweep back down the aisle and into the lobby of the Bison Lodge.

"My little Xander," a teary-eyed Willow whispers, linking her arm with Tara's. "Oh my gosh. He's married. He's actually married! He's a married man!"

The overjoyed witches glide down the aisle after the couple, and back at the dais Spike bows dramatically and offers one leather-clad arm to Buffy and the other to Dawn, both of them accept. Soon the bridesmaids, Spike, and the rest of the guests are congregated toward the back of the lobby, where the teenage bartender doubling as the DJ has filled several dozen glasses of bubbly.

"Ready for your speech, Wills?" Buffy smiles, reaching past Spike to take a champagne glass away from Dawn. Willow's eyes go wide.

"Oh. Speech. Me. As the bestest best man. Oh r-r-right."

A rosy tinge creeps up her neck, stage-fright staking its claim.

"Willow?" Tara asks fearfully, holding tight to her arm as the redhead starts to quake.

"Tummy butterflies," she grimaces.

"Need a spot of courage, pet?" grins Spike, drawing his little flask of Bourbon from a pocket of his duster. "Or shall I take the mic first, warm up the crowd?"

"What would _you_ say? You don't even _like_ Xander?" snorts Dawn, trying and failing to sneak another glass of sparkling wine without Buffy noticing.

"Well, s'pose that's true. But chasin' him down helped me suss some things out, an' if it'll help Little Red Ridin' Hood here, I'll speak my piece. That be a'right with you, luv?"

He turns to Buffy, who glances around at the milling crowd, the idleness taking its toll on the short-fused tempers of most of the guests.

"I guess so."

"Ta, pet. Be back in a mo'."

Slipping out from between the Summers girls and the witches, Spike swaggers over to the bar, picks up the microphone from where it'd been placed following the ceremony, and clears this throat.

" 'Lo all. Got a few words to say before the best man gets the floor, but so I'll be quick about it so we can all knock back the hard stuff an' that fine cake I've been sniffin' out."

_Charmer_, Buffy snickers inside her head as the guests chuckle and seem to relax, all eyes on Spike. _It has to be the accent. Never knew he could be so winsome if he tried_.

"Good of you all to show up, support Anya an' Harris. Could tell by lookin' at those two that they'd never be happy with another, so frankly, I'm surprised it took 'em this long to get hitched. Been moonin' over each other for a good two years, 'bout to make the rest of us nutty as fruitcakes."

More light laughs trace across the lobby, and Buffy glances at the couple. Xander's arms are around Anya, her intricately curled hair resting on his chest, his feet seemingly drowning in the fluffs of tulle at the bottom of her dress.

"At any rate," continues Spike, the joviality in his tone replaced by a gentle earnestness, "seein' these lovebirds makes a bloke think… 'bout the girl he loves… 'bout what he'd do to make sure his endin' is as good as theirs. Ways he'd prove that he's… worth her trust… that he'd do anythin' for her… that walkin' away from her would be givin' up the greatest chance of love he's ever had. Lookin' at those two… gives a man hope that he could do what he mustn't. For her. To be hers."

His eyes find Buffy's and lock on, sweet but intense, determined, turning his words into a promise. He swallows hard, and then blinks and peers around the crowd again, easing back on the tone of resolve he'd just been using. His words speeding up in what almost seems like embarrassment, he snags a champagne glass from the bar countertop and lifts it.

"Point bein', they're lucky little buggers an' we're all jealous. To Anya an' Xander. Cheers, ducks."

Spike tips back his glass and downs the champagne in one gulp, and Willow walks forward shakily and accepts the microphone. Oddly bashful now, the vampire shuffles back over to where Dawn, Tara, and Willow stand, his hands rifling through his pockets, eyes on the ground.

"Damn near lost my nerve. Gotta have a smoke left somewhere. Oh, bugger. They're all waterlogged…"

"Spike…"

Smiling, Buffy lays her fingertips on his arm, and the stress fades from his face, a hesitant grin replacing it.

"What you said… that was really beautiful."

"Meant every word of it," he whispers solemnly, lowering his voice as Willow launches into what appears to be, 'Xander's Adventures as a Young Sunnydalian'.

* * *

"S-so, let's all h-have some cake!" Willow stammers at last, the green luster of her dress seeming to slink up the sides of her neck and onto her cheeks. She sinks down onto a stool and drops the microphone onto the bartop with a _screeeech_ of feedback, and Tara hurries forward to hug her, affectionate tears glittering in her eyes.

Taking his cue from Halfrek, Clem wheels out the cake to thunderous applause. It's a chocoholic's dream come true, layer upon layer, a spire of icing drizzled in caramel and fudge. Soon guests are passing plates of the delicious confection around, no longer any antagonism between Xander's relatives and the demons here to celebrate with Anya. Even Mr. Harris is remaining civil enough to converse with Clem. Everyone laughs delightedly when Cousin Carol catches the bouquet and then the pimply demon Krevlin nabs the garter, then the tables and folding chairs are cleared from the center of the room and the DJ begins cycling through Anya's chosen music selections.

"I still think the burlap and blood larva would have been more flattering," giggles Willow, tipsy after a glass and a half of pink champagne, her nerves finally mollified.

"Baby, you look beautiful in green," Tara replies, slipping into the familiar term of endearment without realizing it.

Buffy contentedly sips at her glass, watching Xander wheel Dawn around the dance floor as a lively song ends. A more mellow tune plays through the sound speakers, and she _feels_ rather than _hears_ Spike move softly to stand at her side.

– –_ Who would sell their soul for love?  
Or waste one tear on compromise  
Should be easy enough  
To know a heartache in disguise – –_

"Will you dance with me, pet?"

"Spike..." Her voice epitomizes her mood, torn between longing and hesitation.

"Not gonna try anythin'. Just want a dance, is all."

_– –But the heart rules the mind  
And the going gets rough  
Pride takes the fall  
When you find that kind of love – –_

"Alright," Buffy sighs, and his hand slips up to lift hers from the countertop, drawing her away from the bar and onto the dance floor. Spike turns her to face him, their hands intertwining, his other resting tenderly at her waist, hers on his shoulder.

Nearby, Willow twirls Tara in a leisurely pirouette, Dawn attempts to teach Clem the basic swing dance steps, and Xander and Anya are enfolded in each others arms, so tightly that not even Slayer strength could pull them apart.

_– – I can't help feeling like a fool  
Since I lost that place inside – –_

The strongest thought crossing Buffy's mind as she sways slowly next to Spike is that this feels so vastly different from their moment on the balcony of the Bronze. There's no sense of foreboding, no fettered anger, no threats or shame or furtive quickie. He's making no attempt to draw her into the darkness; instead he's joining her in the light, openly.

_– – Where my heart knew its way  
And my soul was ever wise – –_

"Are you really going to go try to get your soul back?" she whispers. They seem to be drawing infinitesimally closer, her head drifting down onto his shoulder, her right hand gliding to the back of his neck, his fingers clasping together at the small of her back.

"If that's what you want," Spike murmurs. "I'll leave at sunset, take my motorbike to the wharf, stowaway in a cargohold, an' float off to Africa. Sure the demon networks there would help point me in the right direction, pro'ly laughin' at me all the while. Vampire lookin' for a soul."

_– –Once innocence was lost  
There was not faith enough  
Still my heart held on  
When it found that kind of love – –_

"Maybe… you don't have to leave right away."

His eyebrow quirks. "You certain of that, luv? I would've thought you'd be rarin' to get me out'a town."

"Well, you… I can't believe I'm saying this, but you saved the day, bringing Xander back."

"You callin' me the hero, Buffy?" he says with a smirk. "Big Bad me?"

"I guess so. Ugh. It's gonna go to your head now, isn't it?"

He chuckles, drawing her slightly closer until she rests against his chest, slow dancing serenely. "Only a bit."

_– – Though beauty is rare enough  
Still we trust  
Somehow we'll find it there  
With no guarantee  
It seems to me  
At least it should be fair – –_

"I'm not going to sleep with you tonight, Spike."

"And if you suggested it, I'd refuse," he replies. "Laugh if you want, but I've scrounged up some dignity, Slayer. Seen that spark in your eyes, that crumb, that maybe. Gonna let you suss things out before there's any more of the rough an' tumble. Won't have you walkin' all over me in the meanwhile."

"I didn't –" _I did. I used him, his body and his heart, and refused to believe I could ever feel anything for him. Until I realized that, all along, he really wanted my love more than anything physical between us. Just wanted to be loved._

_– – But if it's only tears and pain  
Isn't it still worth the cost?  
Like some sweet saving grace  
Or a river we must cross – –_

"Spike."

"Yes, luv?"

"There… there _is_ a maybe. It just… might take me a while to find it, you know?"

Nodding, he sighs against her ear, a low, contented sound. "I can live with that, luv. It'll be worth it."

_– –If we don't understand  
What this life is made of  
We learn the truth  
When we find that kind of love – –_

"Besides," he murmurs, "when one of us does let the other back under the sheets, it'll be different… be love, not just bodies crashin', tryin' to find somethin' to feel. World of difference twixt the two, sweetheart. When you let me… I'm gonna worship you, whisper all those sweet nothin's you've been denyin' me…"

She arches slightly as he presses her closer, her eyes drifting shut, already imagining. Then Spike kisses the side of her neck, his voice a light tease.

"Maybe tomorrow night, eh?"

Rolling her eyes, Buffy smiles and leans fully against him, head resting comfortably – perfectly – against his hard, cool shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist in a tender embrace.

_– – 'Cause when innocence is lost  
There is not faith enough  
We learn the truth  
When we find that kind of love – –_

_The End._

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you again for joining me in this happily-ever-after re-write. Please leave a review and let me know if you liked this story. (:_


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